


Brother's Keeper

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A Leitner Made Them Do It, AU where Danny was never taken by the Stranger, Anal Sex, Emetophilia, Face Slapping, M/M, Mild knife play, Public Humiliation, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, Sibling Incest, Slut Shaming, Trans Martin Blackwood, Verbal Humiliation, aka vomiting, brief mention of child abuse, bystander forced to participate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: To say Tim loves his brother is an understatement. Danny is Tim’sworld. A chance encounter with a Leitner puts their relationship to the test.
Relationships: Danny Stoker/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 89
Collections: End-of-Year Exchange 2019





	Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kess/gifts).



> For my dear friend, Kess. You're such a treasure. Never change!
> 
> Many thanks to the amazing cuttooth for betaing this monstrosity!

To say Tim loves his brother is an understatement. Danny is Tim’s _world,_ his favorite person and his confidant. Growing up, he was quick to defend Danny from anyone and everyone, from their parents (who thought a fist was the best form of discipline), to their teachers (who thought he should be applying himself more), to random pricks on the street (who thought he looked like a poof). Tim’s lost track of how many fights he landed in trying to defend his brother. He knows Danny would do the same for him. Danny can be a bit of a dick sometimes, and he almost never pays the rent on time, but what they have is solid. 

So he doesn’t mind when Danny drags him off to what seems like every charity shop in London in search of artfully tattered clothing. Even if Tim’s not really into fashion, and spends most of the time nodding absently whenever Danny asks his opinion. Even if he privately thinks Danny could get the same result buying new clothes and running them over a few times with a car. 

Okay, maybe Tim minds a little, but Danny’s thrifting expeditions aren’t _all_ bad. Sometimes Tim finds other things, like his vintage Polaroid Sun 600. He always makes a point of combing through the electronics, and he’s doing just that when a flash of white catches his eye, striking among all the various shades of grey plastic. Reaching between a fax machine and a dusty computer monitor, his fingers close on a slim hardback book. A shiver passes over him as he inspects the cover.

 **_CRAVE_ ** _,_ the title proclaims in jagged black letters, like the slash of claws. They have an odd depth to them, as if they’d been carved into the book, but the cover is perfectly smooth. 

His hand pauses halfway to opening the book. Something inside him screams to leave it alone, to shove the book under the pile of electronic detritus and go back to Danny. But there’s something compelling about the stark white volume, so he opens it anyway. 

Inside the front cover is a battered label, half peeled away. The letters are faded, but he can just barely make out the letters _gen Leit._ His heart races in his chest. 

It must be a prank. There’s no way he’s found a genuine Leitner in a dusty charity shop. But who would even be the target of such a ruse? The book hadn’t even been in the right place. 

He closes the cover carefully, checking it for a sticker. Fifty pence. Can’t beat a price like that for a cursed artifact, he thinks, tucking it under his arm. 

“What did you get?” Danny asks after he’s done trying on a small mountain of clothing. He makes a grab for the book, but Tim easily evades him, holding it behind his back. 

“Just something for work,” Tim says.

“Something _spooky,_ then?” Danny asks, raising his eyebrows and wriggling his fingers like Bela Lugosi. 

“Maybe,” Tim admits. “But you shouldn’t touch it.”

“You’re touching it,” Danny points out. 

“Be smarter than me.” 

“Fine,” Danny sighs. “Carry my bags, then?”

Rolling his eyes, Tim extends his arm to take Danny’s shopping. It’s not the first time he’s been asked to play packmule on these trips, and it won’t be the last. The moment Tim’s holding the bags, however, Danny snatches the book from his hand, whooping with glee. 

“What’ve we got?” he asks, easily deflecting Tim’s attempts to regain the book. “Cursed memoirs? Haunted pornography?” 

“Give it back!” Tim says, but it’s a lost cause, as Danny’s already flipping through the pages. 

Danny frowns, puzzled. “The hell?”

Tim looks down at the book, watches Danny turn page after page. Every last one is blank. 

* * *

Danny is strangely quiet during the tube ride home, refusing to talk even about his purchases, which he’d normally be happy to discuss for hours. He keeps sneaking glances at Tim and then looking away the moment Tim turns to look at him. Tim plays sudoku on his phone, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He holds the book on his lap for the ride. It feels oddly heavy for such a thin volume. 

“What do you want for dinner?” Tim asks when they get home. 

“I’m not hungry,” Danny says tonelessly.

“Okay. Wanna watch some telly instead?”

“Not really.”

“Fine,” Tim says, rolling his eyes. “Be an antisocial prat for all I care. I’m ordering Thai, and you can’t have any.”

Contrary to his promise, Tim gets two orders of pad see ew and a side of spring rolls. If that won’t drag Danny out of his funk, he doesn’t know what will. He leaves the book on his bedside table while he’s waiting for their food, and pops into the shower. The steam helps clear his head, as does the wank he indulges in, his wet fist sliding easily over his cock as he fingers himself open. He leans his forehead against the wall of the shower and pants as he strokes himself, before finally coming with a low cry. 

Danny doesn’t come out of his room when the food arrives, even when Tim calls for him. Scowling, he leaves Danny’s noodles in the fridge, along with half the spring rolls. He decides to distract himself with a bottle of lager and a Netflix marathon, spearing his noodles with unnecessary force. 

In his annoyance, he forgets the book entirely.

* * *

The next day Tim hits the snooze button one time too many, and winds up running late for work, pulling on the first outfit that isn’t too wrinkled and grabbing a protein bar to eat on the tube. Jon is unsurprisingly a complete prick about it, and favors him with another lecture about professionalism he only half listens to. 

“Rough morning?” Martin asks afterwards, presenting him with a steaming mug of tea. 

“Just a bit,” he says, taking a sip. It’s exactly the way he likes it, strong and sweet and hot. “This is good. Thanks.”

Martin colors slightly. “Y-you’re welcome.”

Tim’s thought about seducing Martin from time to time, if only to see how far down that blush goes. He files away the idea for later as Martin scurries away to perform whatever drudgery Jon’s assigned him, then sets to work. 

He’s always liked research: digging through a set of vague clues to unearth names and dates and records long since forgotten. He gets so caught up in the paper trail that he barely notices his colleagues leaving for lunch. He’ll follow them soon, once he’s done with the weird doll case he’s been working on. He’s bent over his laptop when the door abruptly slams open.

“Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Tim snaps, glaring at the intruder. 

Danny stands in the doorway to the archives, face twisted with rage. Tim’s never seen his brother look like that. The sight snatches the breath from his lungs, and he can only stare as Danny stalks over to his desk, grabbing him painfully by the hair and yanking his head back. 

“Danny!” he yelps. “What—?”

His brother slaps him hard across the face, making his pulse race and his cheek sting.

 _“Shut up,”_ Danny snaps. He releases Tim only to shove him hard in the chest, sending him toppling over in his chair. Tim’s head slams against the wooden floor, making him see stars. He cries out in pain, trying to roll away, but Danny just snatches him up and pulls him to his knees. 

That’s when Tim realizes the situation is worse than he thought. 

Danny is _hard._ Tim can see the outline of his erection through his trousers, where it tents the smooth fabric. Tim stares at it in dumb confusion, trying to force the situation to make sense, but all the details collide in a screaming mess. Danny hit him. Danny’s hard. Danny wants him on his knees, because— 

His mind shorts out as he hears the sound of Danny’s zip, and suddenly Danny’s cock is inches from his face. It’s flushed an angry red, with precome already beading at the tip. Tim flinches away, casting his eyes down, when a flash of white catches his attention: the book. It’s open at Danny’s feet, only where once the pages were blank, he now sees lines of text. 

_The book._ Tim realizes suddenly that this is his fault. His baby brother’s been— _possessed,_ or something, all because Tim couldn’t ignore a stupid book. He doesn’t have time to dwell on his mistake, however, because Danny’s already dragging the tip of his cock across Tim’s face, smearing sticky fluid on his skin. Tim’s seen his brother’s cock before, in the shower, at urinals, even just walking around the flat. None of that prepared him for the heat and the weight of it pressing against his cheek.

“Danny...” he says helplessly, looking up. Danny’s stare burns straight through him, makes the words dry in his throat. 

“I knew you were stupid,” Danny says. “But I thought you at least knew what to do with a cock.”

“I’m not going to—” 

Danny kicks him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him and making him double over, eyes stinging with tears. Tim should fight back, but this is _Danny,_ even if he’s not himself right now. Tim could never hurt him. 

As he’s gasping for breath, Danny grabs his hair with both hands and forces his way into his mouth. Tim whimpers as Danny rubs the velvety head of his cock against his tongue, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt and musk. The scent is familiar after years of washing Danny’s sheets. Danny moans and buries himself deeper, cradling Tim’s skull as he pushes into his throat. Tim gags violently against the intrusion.

He could bite down. He could make it hurt, make him bleed—but he _can’t,_ not when it isn’t even Danny’s fault. Tears stream down his cheeks as Danny buries himself in his throat. Tim tries to pull away, but Danny holds him steady as his throat spasms around his brother’s cock. Drool leaks from his mouth and down his chin. 

“Fuck, yes,” Danny moans, thrusting in until his neatly trimmed thatch brushes Tim’s nose. He pulls back just long enough for Tim to take a deep gulp of air, then plunges back in, laughing as Tim retches. 

“I thought a slut like you would be better at this,” Danny mocks, pulling out to slap his spit-slick cock against Tim’s cheek. “It’ll be easier if stop fighting and just suck it.” 

“N-no!” Tim protests, flinching away. 

Danny just laughs again and thrusts so hard Tim’s head hits the desk behind him, making his head spin with pain and lack of air. He claws at Danny’s hips, scrambling for purchase, but Danny just fucks him even more viciously, as if Tim’s mouth is just a toy for him to use. Tim’s stomach roils, and he finds himself choking. Danny pulls out just in time for him to vomit all over the hardwood floor. His cheeks burn with shame as he tries to catch his breath. He's acutely aware of how filthy he is, his face smeared with spit and bile and precome. 

“That’s disgusting,” Danny says. “I thought you could take cock better than that, Timmy.”

Wiping his face with a shaking hand, Tim begs, _“Please,_ Danny, stop—”

Before he can get the words out, Danny grabs him by the hair again, forcing his mouth back onto his cock. Tim fights the wave of nausea that washes over him and just grips Danny’s hips for dear life. Just when Tim thinks he’s going to pass out, Danny pulls out of his throat, rubbing the swollen head of his cock against Tim’s lips. Tim gasps for air, lungs aching, blind with tears.

“One more chance to be a good slut,” Danny growls, fingers tensing in Tim’s hair as he prepares to slam back in. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tim wraps his lips around Danny’s cock and sucks. Danny moans loudly, rocking his hips almost gently as Tim flicks his tongue against the underside. His thighs twitch under Tim’s palms. For a moment, Tom can pretend he's somewhere else, with some _one_ else, until Danny moans.

“Fuck, Timmy, I knew you’d be good,” Danny say, stroking possessive hands through Tim's hair. He’s stopped fucking Tim’s throat, at least, even if this new humiliation is almost worse. Tim sucks obediently, telling himself he doesn’t have a choice as Danny guides him with a hand cradling his head. When Danny pulls out, Tim mouths the shaft until his face gets shoved lower, against Danny’s balls. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what the wants; Tim sucks them into his mouth one at a time, ignoring the pleasured sighs above him. Danny’s cock throbs against his cheek.

“Get on the desk,” Danny orders, finally pulling him off. Tim blinks up at him, confused, before Danny hauls him up again by the hair, yanking so hard strands break loose in his fingers. He shoves Tim face-down against the side of the desk, pushing his trousers down to his knees. 

“Such a slut, Timmy,” Danny says, rubbing the wet head of his cock between Tim’s cheeks. “I should’ve done this a long time ago. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking of this?”

The words knock the air out of Tim’s lungs. It’s not true, there’s no _way_ it’s true, but he can’t stop wondering—his thoughts come screeching to a halt as Danny’s cock probes at his dry hole. 

“Please, Danny, don’t do this, I—I’ll suck you off again! Better this time.” Tim promises, eyes squeezed shut with shame and terror. He can’t believe he just offered to suck his brother’s cock, willingly. 

Not that he’s...never thought about it. In the darker hours between hookups, alone in the company of his hand. It’s completely normal to wonder what it might be like, to touch someone he knew better than anyone, to smell their skin and taste their come. He already knows what Danny sounds like when he’s getting off, courtesy of sharing a room well into their teen years. He’s even seen it happen, during some of their wilder escapades, the times they’ve shared girls, fucking them in turns or even together. The girls changed, but it was always the same between him and Danny.

“Stop being a little bitch, Timmy,” Danny says, leaning down to nuzzle Tim’s arse. “We both know you’ll take whatever you can get.”

Danny punctuates his statement with a long lick up his cleft, pausing to lap at his arsehole. Tim stifles a moan, willing his cock to stay still, because the last thing he needs is to get a stiffy. His resolve weakens when Danny dips his tongue inside with a pleasured sigh, licking him open. He grips the desk with white knuckles, forcing himself to stay quiet against the onslaught of sensation, the silky warmth of Danny’s mouth on his most vulnerable places. Danny licks him like he has a manual for Tim’s body and knows exactly what to do. 

By the time Danny stands again, Tim’s almost forgotten what’s about to happen. He tries to buck Danny off, but it’s too late, and all he gets for his trouble is a hard slap across the face. 

“I’ve had to watch you whore around for _years,_ Timmy,” Danny snaps. “Isn’t this the least you could do for your little brother?”

Tim’s been called a slut or a whore plenty of times, but coming from Danny, it stings. He’s never been ashamed of who he is, but the idea of his brother judging him, _hating_ him, is too much to bear. He hears Danny spit, shuddering as the wetness hits his hole.

Tim doesn’t get much time to worry; gripping his hips, Danny fucks him open with one brutal thrust, making him scream and grip the desk with white knuckles. 

“You’re pretty tight for a slut,” Danny says, squeezing his hips so hard Tim nearly bites through his lip. “No wonder everyone wants to fuck you. Bet that boss of yours _loves_ it.”

“L-leave Jon out of this!”

Danny laughs, reaching with one hand to stuff his fingers into Tim’s mouth. Tim gags hard, struggling against Danny and impaling himself even further. His stomach heaves as Danny viciously fucks his throat, until he’s choking and spewing bile from his mouth for the second time. 

“Fuck, Timmy, that’s disgusting,” Danny says, laughing and wiping his fingers in Tim’s hair as he fucks hi. He switches his grip to mash Tim’s face against the desk, smearing the mess that hadn’t quite made it to the floor. His stomach had been mercifully empty, but he flinches away, sickened by the acrid odor. 

Just then, a well-timed thrust hits Tim in just the right place and makes him gasp, his hips twitching involuntarily. Danny chuckles and repeats the movement, over and over, until Tim’s cock is throbbing through the pain.

Then Tim hears the door open. 

“You’re just in time!” Danny says cheerfully, hips still pumping. “Who wants his mouth?”

Tim turns his head to see Jon and Martin’s horrified stares. His eyes squeeze shut. Of fucking course someone would see him like this, face a filthy mess, fully hard from his brother’s cock pounding his arse. 

“D-Danny—” Martin says, reaching toward them. 

“Don’t try to stop me,” Danny says. “I’d hate to have to hurt him.”

Danny reaches into his pocket, and suddenly Tim feels something cold and smooth against his belly. His pocket knife.

“Y-you wouldn't—” Tim splutters, but he also thought Danny wouldn’t _fuck_ him, and they’ve already proven _that_ wrong. 

“Danny, _stop!”_ Martin pleads. “You don’t want to do this—”

“Oh, but I do,” Danny says. “Now, who’s taking his mouth?”

“No one!” Jon shouts. Tim’s never seen him like this, eyes wide, face pale and drawn. His whole body is shaking as he stares at Danny. 

Danny trails the knife up Tim’s spine, making him shiver. “So you _want_ me to hurt him? That’s just cruel.”

 _“Don’t!”_ Martin pleads. 

“All you have to do is give Timmy a little snack,” Danny says, shoving the fingers of his free hand back into Tim’s mouth. Tim swallows convulsively. “Is that so much to ask?”

Jon and Martin exchange looks. He can tell already that it won’t be Jon; he already looks like he might pass out thinking about it. They lean in close, speaking softly, before Martin finally squeezes Jon’s shoulder.

“Tim, I—” Martin begins, stepping closer. “You can say no.”

“I’d rather not be stabbed, thanks.” 

Martin opens his trousers, sliding them down his thick thighs. His boxers have little cartoon cupcakes on them, Tim notes hysterically. Martin pulls them down shyly, revealing his neatly trimmed mound. This is the point when Tim would be salivating, under normal circumstances. 

These aren’t normal circumstances. 

There’s enough room on the desk that Martin manages to climb onto the end, straddling the surface and scooting until he’s close enough for Tim to nuzzle his soft curls. Martin reaches down to stroke his hair, whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim says quietly. This close, he can smell the dampness between Martin’s thighs. He presses a kiss to his mound, and Martin shudders, spreading his legs wider. Tim tilts his head down to lick between his folds, tongue flicking against the underside of his cock, and Martin’s thighs clench around his face. He’s always wondered what Martin would taste like, would sound like with his mouth on him. He never meant to find out like this. The taste and smell are almost a pleasant distraction, though, with Danny still pumping away at him, each thrust sending a jolt of pain up his spine. 

“What’s wrong?” Danny asks. “Is Timmy not working hard enough?”

“I—he—he’s doing fine,” Martin stammers. 

“Then why don’t you show him some appreciation?”

Martin’s thighs tense on either side of Tim’s head, and he squirms. “W-what do you want me to do?”

“I want to _hear_ how much you like it,” Danny says. 

Panic laces Martin’s voice as he stammers, “I—I can’t—”

“Would you rather your friend do it?” Danny asks.

Tim risks a glance at Jon, whose hands are mashed against his mouth as he hyperventilates. 

_“No!_ ” Martin cries. “I—it’s going to be okay. We’re going to—do this—and then we can go home.”

Tim hopes so. He _really_ fucking hopes so. Even if he doesn’t know what _home_ will mean after this. 

Martin’s hands stroke Tim’s hair, distracting him from his thoughts. 

“That—that feels good,” he says shyly, and Tim laps harder. “You’re— _ah!_ —really good at this.”

Tim can feel Martin getting wetter as he plunges his tongue inside, lapping up his slick from the source. His cock aches with need, and he hates it, hates this whole fucked-up situation he’s dragged them all into. 

“He _is_ good, isn’t he?” Danny pants, picking up speed. Tim groans with pain, but Danny surprises him with a well-aimed thrust that has him seeing stars. He licks deeper into Martin, trying to distract himself, but the taste and smell of him just go straight to his cock. 

“Y-yes,” Martin moans, pushing his hips against Tim’s mouth. At the same time, Danny shoves his face hard against Martin’s cunt. Tim sucks his cock into his mouth, and Martin whimpers. “God, Tim—”

Tim grips Martin’s thighs, giving him another hard suck, and Martin cries out, stiffening and spurting all over his face. It's oddly gratifying, Tim thinks as he licks him through the aftershocks. Above him, Martin stammers an apology, but Tim just shakes his head and buries his face in Martin’s thigh. 

“Nicely done, Timmy,” Danny croons, wrapping his fingers around Tim’s cock. “I think you’ve earned a reward.”

“N-no!” Tim tries to wriggle away, but Danny presses the knife against his spine, and he freezes. Danny fucks him with renewed viciousness, hard and deep and so fast it’s all Tim can do to grip the desk. Tim’s lost track of the noises he’s making, pained moans and gasps as Danny’s fingers stroke him, too hard to be strictly pleasurable, but his body doesn’t care. 

_“Fuck,_ I love you, Timmy,” Danny pants, and Tim comes with a startled moan, coating Danny’s fingers and the desk. Danny wastes no time shoving his fingers into Tim’s mouth, forcing him to taste his own spunk. After a few last, ragged thrusts, Danny groans and buries himself to the hilt, emptying his balls inside him. Tim can feel come leaking from his abused hole when Danny pulls out.

Before Tim can process what’s happening, Martin surges over him, hitting Danny with his full weight and sending them both to the floor. The knife clatters to the ground. Tim manages to stand, painfully, and finds Martin and Danny struggling on the floor. Martin’s bigger, but Danny’s body is all lean muscle; it’s hard to say who has the advantage. Jon dives for the knife, brandishing it with shaking hands.

“Don’t hurt him!” Tim shouts, shoving himself between Jon and Danny. It should be ridiculous—three men fighting with their cocks out, with another barely keeping hold of the blade—but Tim’s heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s—it’s my fault,” he explains. 

Jon looks stricken, and Tim realizes he sounds like a cliche. 

“No, not like—I mean, there was a Leitner! I should have—”

Jon frowns. “Where did you find a—?”

They’re interrupted by the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Tim turns to find Martin’s finally pinned Danny to the ground. A bruise is blooming on Danny’s cheek. 

“Help me—tie him, or something,” Martin pants. “Until we can get the authorities in here.” 

“You can’t call the cops!” Tim shouts. “They won’t understand.”

Martin’s mouth is a hard line. “What’s there to understand, Tim? He assaulted you. And made me _part_ of it.” 

“We’re not calling the police,” Tim says, quiet but firm. “He wasn’t...it wasn’t him.” 

_Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking of this? Thinking of you?_

Tim shakes the thought away. Danny had just said that to fuck with him—or whatever was controlling Danny. His brother would never hurt him, not intentionally. 

“Timmy?” Danny says, blinking slowly. “W-what’s going on?”

Danny’s words are slurred, as if he’s been drinking, and his eyes are foggy. He stares at Tim for a long moment before his eyes go wide with horror. 

“Oh, no,” he moans. “Oh, no, no, no…” 

He retches, and Martin releases him just in time for Danny to turn onto his side and be violently sick. Tim drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around Danny’s shoulders as he begins to sob. 

“Timmy, I’m so sorry,” he cries. “I never—I didn’t want—”

“I know,” Tim says quietly. He turns Danny to face him, letting him bury his face in Tim’s chest as he weeps.

“What should we...what should we do?” Jon asks. 

“No one needs to know about this. Not the cops, not Elias, not _anyone.”_ Tim turns to Martin. “I’m so sorry you got pulled into it.”

“I’m just worried about you, Tim,” Martin says. His hand twitches by his side, as if he’s thinking of touching Tim. He doesn’t. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tim says. “I just...need some time alone with my brother.”

Danny buries his face deeper in Tim’s chest. He seems so much smaller than he did just a few minutes ago, like he’s still Tim’s baby brother. Like he always will be. Tim vaguely hears Jon and Martin murmuring to each other in concerned tones, but he ignores them, stroking Danny’s hair away from his face. Tim loves Danny. They’re going to be alright. Tim just needs to find out how to fix it. 

Tim cradles his brother in his lap, holding him as tight as he can.


End file.
